


Bad Romance

by JerseyGirl324



Series: Bad Romance [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Flogging, M/M, Masturbation, S&M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-25 19:33:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/642266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JerseyGirl324/pseuds/JerseyGirl324
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Last of the Timelords AU. The Doctor "keeps" the Master and they fall into a structured relationship designed to address both their individual and mutual needs (however unorthodox). Part I of the Bad Romance series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Romance

**Author's Note:**

> Story contains S&M, mild violence and some blood.

The sound of sharp smacks reverberated around the console room of the TARDIS as the Master, dressed in a full black suit and leather gloves, brought his crop down between the Doctor’s shoulder blades. The noise mingled licentiously with the tortured whimpers of the kneeling Time Lord, a symphony that played out all too frequently nowadays. They were the last two of their kind, and in many ways, this ritual had become a routine part of their lives. Eventually, as he was prone to do, the Master became bored with the flogging, and decided it was time to move on to more productive activities.

“Get up, you useless little tart,” he snarled down at his victim.

The Doctor, red stripes prominent on his back, stood up silently. He kept his eyes averted—he knew that to look at the Master directly, without permission, would merit even further punishment. The fresh marks from today’s flogging were simply the newest additions to the tapestry of fading welts that crisscrossed the Doctor’s back. His fellow Time Lord had a passion for sadism, and loved to mark his property. And for reasons he couldn’t even begin to put into words, the Doctor felt more alive and invigorated with the Master than he had in years. In many ways, they were both psychologically damaged, and their relationship somehow managed to satisfy deep-rooted needs for each of them.

“What did you do wrong?” the Master grilled him coolly.

“I prepared the wrong kind of tea for you, Master.”

“That’s right. You know I don’t drink Earl Grey. But now that I’ve given you a proper reminder, I’m sure you will do better in the future, correct?”

“Yes, Master,” the Doctor replied meekly, eyes still turned to the floor.

The Master circled the other Time Lord slowly, silently, a hunter stalking his prey. He stopped in front of the Doctor, placed a leather-gloved hand under his chin, and firmly brought his lover’s pretty face up to meet his piercing gaze. He smirked deviously before diving in for a rough, possessive kiss, biting lustfully at the Doctor’s lip and forcing a probing tongue deep into his mouth. His partner accommodated him graciously, clearly deriving great pleasure from the intimate contact. The Master enjoyed his slave, who was so very obedient—if not always the most on top of things. After several moments, he broke the kiss and surveyed the Doctor purposefully.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he commented matter-of-factly. “And I’m going to stand here and watch as you prepare yourself for me.”

The Doctor, knowing the Master would quickly become impatient, removed his trousers and began sucking on his fingers intently. His partner was invariably rough; it was his responsibility to make sure he was adequately prepared whenever the Master wanted to use him—which was often. After the Doctor had thoroughly coated two of his fingers in saliva, he placed them at his entrance and pushed rapidly into his body, past the initial pain, moaning softly as he hit the prostate on the first thrust.

“Very nice, keep working,” the Master commented slyly, feeling himself begin to harden beneath his well-pressed trousers. “And don’t you dare think of touching your cock unless I tell you to.”

“Yes, Master. Please, Master,” the Doctor moaned. He worked vigorously, stretching the tight ring of muscle and opening himself up in preparation for his well-endowed lover. After only a short time, he added a third finger, his arsehole adjusting easily to the added girth. In recent months, he had grown increasingly adept at servicing his partner, who was strict in training him. The Master was now looking on hungrily; it wouldn’t be long before lust overtook him. The Doctor’s cock had grown painfully hard—he wanted desperately to touch himself, but knew better than to disobey.

“I think I’ve given you more than enough time,” the Master snapped impatiently. “Go over to the settee and get on all fours.”

The Doctor promptly moved onto the cool leather of the sofa and positioned himself accordingly. He ached fiercely, and hoped that the Master would be generous enough to take care of him soon—although that was never a guarantee. He was certain he couldn’t take much more. The Master, who had by now unzipped his own trousers, moved behind the Doctor and delivered a sound smack to his arse; he moaned involuntarily at the sensation, the burning sting lingering on his bum. The Master delivered a few more rapid slaps to the soft, pale bottom, enjoying the bright redness left in his wake.

“Hold yourself open for me,” he commanded brusquely, leisurely stroking his own hardened cock in anticipation.

The Doctor reached around and parted his arse cheeks, exposing the gaping, puckered entrance to the other Time Lord’s lascivious gaze. Without hesitation, the Master placed the head of his cock against the tight hole and thrust hard, forcefully burying himself to the hilt inside the Doctor’s hot, yielding body. He began to fuck his plaything like a man possessed, allowing the Doctor little time to adjust, reveling in the tight, velvet heat that surrounded him. The other man cried out as his partner overwhelmed him completely, and he murmured barely coherent pleas for the Master to touch him. In desperation, he moved to grasp his neglected, leaking cock, but his fellow Time Lord noticed and swiftly batted his hand away.

“What did I tell you?” the Master snarled viciously, slamming into the Doctor with deliberate, painful force designed to emphasize his displeasure.

“Master, please, I can’t take it anymore. Please…”

“Shut up, you stupid whore,” the Master growled. “Just for that, I’m going to hurt you—and if you ask me to stop, or cry out without permission, I’ll leave you unfulfilled and begging to be put out of your misery. Understand?”

“Yes, Master,” the Doctor whimpered pitifully, eyes beginning to water.

The Master knew how to be sadistic; he now put his skills to use, fucking his whore with enough brutality to cause tearing of the delicate tissue. He hadn’t bothered to use additional lubrication, and before long, his cock was slick with pre-cum and warm, red blood, and the Doctor was sniveling and quaking pathetically beneath him. The Master had a penchant for cruelty, and could be absolutely merciless when the mood struck him. Despite this, he could never actually bring himself to seriously maim or kill the Doctor—life just wouldn’t be any fun without the only other Time Lord in existence.

“Say my name.”

“M-Master,” the Doctor choked out meekly.

With one final thrust, the Master groaned and emptied himself into his partner’s wounded body. For a few moments, he remained sheathed in that glorious cavern, enjoying the afterglow of his climax. When he finally pulled out, blood and cum mingled together and dripped thickly from the Doctor’s damaged arse. The other Time Lord was now crying quietly, his cock successfully deflated, and the Master placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Sit up,” he ordered softly.

The Doctor, who had been hunched over miserably, complied. He refused to look at the Master, and kept his teary eyes resolutely downcast. He was still visibly trembling.

“I hope you understand why I had to do that. You know I can’t have a willful slave; and you occasionally need to be reminded of who you belong to. Do you accept that you had to be punished?”

“I accept it, Master,” the Doctor replied obediently.

“Very good. Now tell me who you belong to.”

“I belong to you, Master.”

“Good boy,” the Master soothed, stroking the Doctor’s shoulders tenderly. “Now clean yourself up, grab a warm shower, and get some rest. If you behave perfectly tomorrow, I may be persuaded to give you a reward.”

With that, the Master gave the Doctor a final pat on the back, rose from the settee, tucked himself back in, and strode out gracefully towards the TARDIS bathroom. For several minutes, the Doctor sat alone, naked on the cool leather. While he sometimes wished that the Master was more caring and affectionate, he knew that such hopes were in vain. What he got from the Master was the closest thing to love the other was capable of giving—and that was enough for him. In a complicated and unorthodox way, the relationship worked; they needed each other. And so, after a few silent moments of contemplation, the Doctor got up and followed his lover in the direction of the shower.


End file.
